Simon Lelic - The Child Who

Leo shuffled closer and reached an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s kids, Meg. It’s kids being cruel like only kids can be.’

His wife pulled away from him.

‘Meg? What’s wrong?’

Megan hesitated before answering. ‘I was spat at,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘We were. Ellie and me. Yesterday, at the supermarket. I wasn’t going to tell you but… after today…’ Her voice seemed colder all of a sudden.

‘Spat at? By who?’

‘By a woman. A mother. She was my age, younger. She had a shopping trolley and two children and as she passed me she turned and spat.’

‘What? Are you sure? I mean—’

‘I’m sure, Leo. I’m perfectly, one-hundred-per-cent sure.’

‘No. I know. I just meant, why? Did you say something to her or—’

‘It wasn’t my fault!’

‘Calm down, Meg. I’m not saying it was. I’m just trying to understand what happened.’ He shook his head. ‘Why on earth would someone spit at you? Do you think… Are you saying… You think it was because of the case?’

‘The thought occurred to me.’

‘Why though?’ Leo said again. ‘How did she even know who you were?’

‘Your secret’s out, Leo. You’re a big name, suddenly, in a small town. No.’ She corrected herself: ‘You’re a small name in a smaller town full of even smaller-minded people. That’s why, Leo. That’s how.’

Megan shuffled round to face him. She took his hand and held it. ‘The point is, it’s not just kids. What happened today, what happened at the supermarket: it’s not just kids.’

Leo looked down. He felt Megan’s plaintive stare and turned from it.

What more was there to say?The whole episode: it was deplorable. Entirely contrary to the ethos of the school and not, Ellie’s head teacher had assured him, behaviour that would be tolerated. The culprits would be identified and punished. Mr Curtice could no doubt understand, particularly given his profession, that it was difficult at this stage to say how exactly but the school – she, personally – would not let Eleanor down. It would help, of course, if Ellie could be encouraged to come forward – to name names, as it were. But no, yes, of course, it must be extremely difficult for the poor child and yes, indeed, just as you say, the onus must of course fall on the school to get to the bottom of things. And they would. Of course they would.

Ms Bridgwater was a slight, suited woman washed in scent and smeared in make-up. She had deflected Leo’s anger with the practice of a politician. Leo, having expected a twelve-round brawl, had felled his opponent with a single swing – and was left as dazed as he would have been had he lost.

‘Well,’ he said. He sat straight, gave a firm nod. ‘Good. I appreciate your cooperation. And I… apologise if perhaps I seemed a little – ’ he rolled a hand ‘ – upset. Before.’

‘Not at all, Mr Curtice. You have every right to be upset. As a parent myself, I can fully appreciate the distress you must be feeling.’

‘Yes. Well. Thank you.’

‘And of course,’ Ms Bridgwater added, ‘there is the pressure of your work.’

‘My work?’

Come now, the head teacher did not say. ‘The case, Mr Curtice. The Forbes case.’

‘Oh. I see.’

‘Forgive me for mentioning it but, well.’ Ms Bridgwater pinched a smile. ‘I saw you on the news. You’re quite the local celebrity.’

Leo fumbled a laugh. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.’

‘There is no need for modesty, Mr Curtice. And besides…’ The head teacher’s smile turned gluttonous. ‘Doing what I do,’ she said, ‘being in the position that I am, I cannot help but take an interest in these matters.’ She raised her arms from her lap and settled them on the edge of her desk.

Leo, this time, returned a frown. ‘Ms Bridgwater. You appreciate, surely, that I cannot discuss—’

‘Oh, please don’t misunderstand me, Mr Curtice. I wouldn’t dream of putting you on the spot. My interest is not so much in the case itself. It is, rather, in… the boy. The accused.’

Leo made to stand. ‘I’m sorry but I’m really not comfortable…’

The head teacher leant across the desk, reached an apologetic hand towards Leo. ‘I thought perhaps I might help. That’s all. I thought I might offer you some information – not the other way round.’

Leo drooped into his chair. ‘Me?’

The head teacher tipped her head. ‘The boy,’ she said and, perhaps noticing Leo stiffen, quickly raised a palm. ‘I know, I know – his identity has not been disclosed. But this is a small town, Mr Curtice. There is a limited number of secondary schools and a very active branch of the National Association of Head Teachers. We talk, just as you talk, I’m sure, with your fellow professionals.’ Again Ms Bridgwater smiled.

‘Well, naturally, but—’

‘The boy. The accused. If it is whom I – we – suspect it is – ’ the head teacher gave a twitch that was almost a wink ‘ – then, as I say, I would perhaps have some insight that you might find instructive. He is not, I am sure, the most cooperative of clients.’

Leo resisted his instinct to agree. ‘I’m still not sure I follow. I don’t want to sound ungrateful but what insight could you offer?’

‘We taught him,’ the head teacher said. Then, when Leo began to dissent, ‘Not most recently, I concede. But he was here, for about as long as the boy has spent anywhere.’

‘Here? But…’ But this was his daughter’s school. It was a good school. A state school but as reputable a state school as a parent could hope for. Leo shook his head. ‘When?’

‘He started his secondary education here. We excluded him after a term. This is all on the assumption, of course, that we are indeed talking about the same boy.’ The head teacher studied Leo. She gave him seconds to respond. ‘But you will have access to the boy’s records,’ she said when Leo did not. ‘You will be able to confirm the precise dates, I’m sure.’

Ellie would have known him. No, not necessarily. It was a big school, one of the biggest in the county. She will have seen him, though. She will have passed him, brushed against him. He will have seen her .

‘Did you teach him?’ Leo said. ‘Why was he expelled?’

‘I am denied, in my role, the pleasures of classroom contact.’ The head teacher twitched her lipstick. ‘But certainly I had dealings with the boy. He was, shall we say, a regular visitor to my office.’

‘He caused trouble?’

‘When he was present, Mr Curtice, yes, he certainly did. We’d heard about his reputation before he started here so we thought we were prepared. But when a child will simply not allow himself to be taught, there is very little that we can do.’

‘Not allow himself… What do you mean?’

‘I mean he was abusive, disruptive, entirely lacking in deference. A real attention seeker. Our strategy was reduced to restricting the impact his presence would have on the children around him.’

‘He was isolated?’

‘He isolated himself. His attendance record was woeful, as I say. When he was present, he may as well not have been.’ The head teacher shook her head and her hair, sprayed rigid, moved not a jot. ‘Such anger. Such visceral, unaccountable rage. He attacked a teacher, Mr Curtice. That’s why, in the end, he was excluded. An unprovoked attack, by all accounts but the boy’s.’

Leo frowned again, waited for Ms Bridgwater to continue.

‘The teacher, Miss Dix: she asked him to read aloud. Just a simple passage from a text the class was studying. The boy was subdued that day, which for him amounted to his best behaviour, and poor Josie sensed an opportunity to involve him.’ The head teacher made a face, like really her colleague should have known better. ‘She asked, gently, and the boy refused. She persisted and the boy insulted her. He called her an s-l-u-t, Mr Curtice. Josie was admirably restrained in her response – far more restrained than I would have been, I assure you – but when she approached the boy’s desk and set an open book in front of him, the boy hurled it aside and flung himself at Josie’s throat. He throttled her – or would have, had the other boys in the class not restrained him.’